Notes on a Trauma Conference

I spent much of yesterday "at" a conference on trauma; because it was a virtual conference, I could be on campus, taking care of school business (typically light on Fridays), while hearing interesting presentations on trauma research, on trauma in texts, on how to remake our spaces to make them safer for people who have suffered trauma.

I joined the Zoom meeting prepared to turn off my camera and my microphone, but we were never allowed those controls, which is fine with me.  If we wanted to interact, we wrote in the chat, and people did.  In some ways, it was more interactive than a traditional conference.  At a traditional conference, only a few people get to pose a question at the end of a presentation.  That was not the case yesterday.  From what I could tell, almost every question was answered.

All of the presentations were compelling, although the last presenter did talk a bit fast.  I liked that I could control the volume, because his voice would have been hard to hear in a big conference room.  All attendees will get access to the recording.

The presentations had a nice balance.  For example, the first presenter talked about compassion fatigue, but also compassion satisfaction, the good feelings we get from helping people.  Although the conference was sponsored by Wesley Theological Seminary, the presentations seemed applicable to many professions.

I was even able to use some ideas from the presentation in my writing for seminary.  I had been wrestling with how to end my discussion post on God hardening Pharaoh's heart in the Exodus story, so it was interesting to hear a speaker talk about how some of the aspects of God that I find comforting--like the idea of God holding us in a loving gaze--might be difficult for someone who has been abused by someone who claims to love them.  The presenter talked about how a God who saves some people while destroying the oppressor might be useful for a trauma victim.

It's the kind of conference I wouldn't have been able to attend in my regular life, if it was offered in a face to face way.  I don't know that I would have felt I could justify the time away, the expense.  But a free conference that I could watch from my office?  Perfect.  If it had turned out to be less useful, I could have shifted my attention to something else.  

But how delightful that it turned out to be such a good experience.

Pandemic Conferences: the In-Person Edition

I went to a conference yesterday, an in-person conference.

The last time I went to an in-person conference was the AWP in San Antonio in March 2020.  I wrote a series of posts about it at the time, as people decided not to come in the face of this new flu-like disease.  We didn't wear masks, but we were fairly safe as very few people were in the audience of any given session; we practiced social distancing, even though we wouldn't have called it that at the time.  Because it was spring in San Antonio, we ate almost every meal outside.  Looking back, the conference itself wasn't a huge risk to my physical health, although the air travel was.

I wasn't sure what to expect yesterday as I arrived at the Marriott resort and conference center.  I went through the resort lobby, where everyone was wearing masks.  I had my mask on too.  I walked through the outside courtyards and pool area to get to the conference center.  I saw a huge ficus tree--surely they designed the resort to leave some of the old growth trees standing.  The whole effect made me feel like I was in a compound made of ancient stone, on some distant tropical island, all by myself.

Sadly, that feeling did not last when I got to the splendid conference area where I was the only one wearing a mask.  I checked in under the glare of fluorescent light and risk taking humans.  I want to believe that we're all vaccinated, but now I know that even vaccinated people can contract and spread the Delta variant.

I was at a conference of Florida people who work in post-secondary schools; have they not been reading the reports I have?  I've been hunched over disease rates and hospital statistics like an old wise woman over her tea leaves and runes.  I've been thinking it's time to cancel large events like this conference and the graduation we have planned for the end of the month.  After I checked in, I thought about adding a second mask to my face.

I found my group of fellow administrators here for the FAPSC conference, and I put my stuff on a chair.  I went to check out the breakfast, which I had assumed would be limp pastries and not-hot-enough coffee.  I was so wrong.  I have rarely had such a beautiful offering of chunked fruit.  And there were eggs and breakfast meats.  If one wanted limp pastries, there was a table, but I loaded up on fruit.

Since we had all taken our masks off to eat, I left my mask off for the keynote address.  When it was time to go to breakout sessions, I kept my mask on.  I was amazed that the rooms for the breakout sessions were arranged as if for pre-pandemic times, which is a shame, because there was room to space the chairs out.  I took it upon myself to move my chair out of its neat row.  

During the day, I kept an eye on who was sitting near me.  I am fully vaccinated, but I've read the reports, and I know better than to place all my bets on vaccination.  If I was sitting near someone outside of my table group, I kept my mask on.  If I could do it, I moved my chair away.  When I was out in the main areas, moving from place to place, I kept my mask on.  I washed my hands a few extra times here and there.

It felt both strange and scary and wonderful to be back in a glitzy conference facility, with delicious food served throughout the day.  The breakout sessions had some nuggets of information that will be useful, along with premises that don't apply to me, like that I have an Admissions team, one that I can fire at will.

During our breaks, I kept my distance and read the book I had chosen for the Sealey challenge, Jane Hirshfield's After.  I thought about literary conferences and wondered if it would ever feel safe to be in big groups like the AWP.  I let Hirshfield's poems comfort and inspire me.

On to the next day of the conference and hoping I'm not attending a superspreader event.

One Last Look Back at AWP

A week ago, I'd be on my way to San Antonio for the AWP convention.  I've spent a week thinking about all the decisions so many of us made.  I don't know why I do this--it's not like we have a time machine and can go back to change anything.  But let me take a moment and capture some of these thoughts.

--Will I look back in horror at what all we risked by gathering as a group?  Or will I wonder what the big fuss was all about?  Will I think about how we thought it was so minor/major, but it was really the opposite?

--I knew that some of the events and panels would be canceled, but I was surprised that it turned out to be about half of them.   In some ways, that was fine. It's the kind of conference that usually offers 30 panels per time slot, so it's impossible to feel like I can do much of it at all.  And yet, as the week went on, and more and more of the panels I would have liked to attend were canceled, I started to feel a bit cheated.

--As I read about some of the places where people went in San Antonio, I've started wishing that I had had more time.  We never made it to the Pearl district.  We didn't go to any of the museums.  There were so many restaurants that we didn't try.

--And I'm filled with some other regrets.  Why didn't I take advantage of a book fair that was less crowded?  Why didn't I make some effort to connect to publishers?  I could go on and on like this.

--And then part of me thinks that if I had known then (the mythical then) what I know now, I might have subtracted a day or two from the trip.  It would have been less expense for one thing.  I'm always a bit aghast when we get the bill for the hotel room.

--The cost of the conference experience (which includes airfare and hotel) is astonishing.  Some years, I feel like it's a good deal.  Years like this one, when so much of the conference was canceled, I'm not so sure.

--In some ways, these feelings are cyclical. I go to conferences for awhile, hoping for opportunities and enrichment, and then I begin to think it's not worth the money. Then I don't go for awhile, and then I go again and love the experience so much--and the cycle begins again.

AWP: a Brief Summary of Friday

Yesterday was one of the best AWP days--the two panels I wanted to see were not canceled and all/most of the presenters were there to talk.  Today, every panel I wanted to attend has been canceled.  But let me hit some of the highlights of yesterday:

--I went to 2 panels, which I may write about in more depth later.  I went to a panel on disabilities and a panel on how poets should evaluate fame and effectiveness.   I went to each one in part because I knew at least one of the presenters, and I wanted to be supportive.  But what a bonus to have a panel that gave wonderful information and inspiration.

--I had great food.  We've been trying to get to Boudra's for guacamole made tableside since we got here.  Yesterday, after an unsatisfying sandwich, we walked down the River Walk and got in at Boudra's.  The guacamole was AMAZING.  The grilled veggies and corn pudding--also AMAZING.

--I went to the Alamo.  It was the anniversary of the final day of the siege of 1836, the day that the Mexican army slaughtered the Texas rebels.  I made this Facebook post:    "I did go over to the Alamo today--it's the anniversary of the day the Alamo fell to Mexican forces. There were wreaths and historical re-enactors and a street preacher and a man yelling about the British war against Nigeria, along with lots of freshly graduated Air Force cadets and every school child from the state of Texas. I felt more moved than I expected to feel. I hid behind my camera, taking pictures, so no one could see the tears around my eyes. In a time of grievous losses, it's good to remember that one defeat doesn't mean there won't be victories later."

--Later in the day, on our way to a small, off the beaten track Asian restaurant, we walked by the Alamo again, in time for the end of the day ceremonies.  We didn't stop, but I was glad to see how many people turned out for these ceremonies.

--I am intrigued by the street preacher who declared that Jesus didn't come for most of us.  What Sunday school did he attend?

--I was tempted to engage him in conversation, but I know how well that is likely to end.  I made this Facebook post:

"Although I was sorely tempted, I did not engage the street preacher a block away from the Alamo. He was preaching hellfire and Jesus sending us all to eternal damnation. I wanted to yell, 'But what about the concept of grace?' I wanted to preach an opposing message of God loving us so much that God comes to be with us, even though we have to go through all sorts of trials and tribulations, like 7th grade and the heartache of not being able to rescue our loved ones from the things that torment them.

I did not preach on the street corner of San Antonio. I came back to preach on Facebook."

--As always, I am relying on the kindness of people with smartphones to provide selfies.  Here's one of my favorites:  Kelli Russell Agodon and me:

Thanks to Kelli for taking it and for sending it to me.

AWP Report: First Full Day

It is 5:47 a.m., Central Standard Time, and I'm in the lobby of the Marriott Rivercenter in San Antonio, Texas.  There's a woman working at the check in desk, and everyone else is male, all of whom are older.  There's a man in a baseball cap slumped in front of a huge TV.  There's another man in a baseball cap watching the TV from a distance.  There's a man in a coonskin cap, complete with furry tail, hunched over his phone.  There's another man with no headcovering shuffling back and forth between the doors of the place that serves Starbucks but isn't open yet.  There's a member of the cleaning team, polishing the handles on the door.

At least the lobby is quieter this morning, in terms of the piped in music.  The staff turned it down for me yesterday, and I guess that no one ever turned it back up.  Thank goodness.

Yesterday at the AWP was frustrating.  On Wednesday night, I mapped out plan for which panels to attend.  I assumed that all the cancellations were in, and while I was expecting cancellations, I was surprised by how many of them I saw.  Still, I saw plenty that I wanted to attend.

After finding out that one of the sessions that hadn't been canceled when I left the hotel room was canceled, I went to the first session on teaching writing courses online.  While I didn't learn a lot that I didn't already know, I was O.K. with that--glad to know that most of us are experiencing similar outcomes.  I was surprised to realize how many students live more than an hour away from schools that offer a bachelors degree.  I am familiar with all the other reasons why people might choose, might even prefer, online classes:  work schedules, family duties, and the ability to "go to school" at strange hours.  I understood the desire to avoid commuting and traffic, but I hadn't really thought about how far some people are from a campus.

The panel didn't address what to do about those people who are so far away from campus who don't have reliable internet access.

Then I went to a session on university presses and why they might be a good fit for our manuscripts.  Again, I didn't learn a lot that was new to me, but I'm hopeful that the resources (like lists of presses) might be helpful.

Then I went to the session that most excited me, a session about writing nonfiction about apocalypse in an age of apocalypse.  Surprise--it was canceled.  It hadn't been canceled when I left the hotel.  Sigh.

I went back to the hotel and ate a praline.  I made a Facebook and Twitter post about it:  "This is not your grandma's praline: it's as big as my hand and has the amount of pecans my grandmother would have put in the whole batch of pralines, if ever she had made pecan pralines."

My grad school friend had much better luck with her panels--she came back ablaze with inspiration from going to a screenplay writing session.  I was happy that one of us had that kind of luck.  I was feeling a bit of sadness not just because of cancellations but also because of Elizabeth Warren's announcement that she's dropping out of the race.  I was expecting her to do so, because of the Super Tuesday results, but I still felt this heavy despair.

Once again, old white guys remain, white guys who are richer than I will ever be.  Sigh.

Back to our AWP coverage.  It was getting on towards 2 p.m. CST, so my friend and I headed to the River Walk.  We wanted to eat at the place that would make guacomole at our table, but they were very full, so we ate at the Mexican restaurant next door.  We were able to get happy hour prices on drinks, but the margarita was blah.  Happily, the food was yummy.

We relaxed a bit in the room, and then as the sun began to set, we headed out again to walk the less commercial part of the River Walk.  And thus, we discovered a part of historic San Antonio that we hadn't seen yet.  While there, we talked to some poets who wanted to know if we were looking for the place that they would hold their off-site reading.  We said no and chatted a bit.  The poet with cerebral palsy showed us her sketchbook--WOW.  One sketch she made with a ballpoint pen--again, wow.  I may go to their Neurodiversity and Verse session today.

We hiked towards the copper dome that we can see from our hotel room, the one that made me say, "Wait, isn't Austin the capital of Texas?"  Yes, Austin is--I don't know what types of groups are in the tall building with a capital dome on top of it that's here in San Antonio.

From there, we were only a block from the Cathedral, which I wanted to see lit up at night.  So we went over, and I took some pictures.  On our way back, we stopped for hot fudge sundaes at the River Walk.  We ended the day as we began, by strategizing the AWP and which sessions we'll attend and looking at the website to make sure they hadn't been canceled.

So, although the day had its disappointments, some of them severe, overall it was a good day.  I expect today to be similar.

Or maybe it will be slightly different.  I may make my way to the Alamo today--it's the anniversary of the day that the Mexican army defeated the Texas rebels.

A Trip to San Antonio and the AWP: the Travel Portion

I am drinking a peppermint mocha at a table in the lobby of the Rivercenter Marriott in San Antonio, Texas.  We need a better word than lobby, frankly.  This area is huge, and the check-in desk is almost not noticeable; it's off in the corner, overshadowed by the lush furnishings.  Well, they're like an industrialized version of lush furnishings.

I did wake up early, and I've spent more hours than I should, upstairs in my dark room, reading Super Tuesday results.  Unlike previous years, my grad school friend and I couldn't find a suite--hence the dark room.  I think for subsequent mornings, I'll come down here to write.  There are tables where I can plug in my laptop, and I can bring headphones to drown out the piped-in music.  Maybe I will treat myself to a peppermint mocha every morning.

It reminds me of the first national academic conference I attended, a pop culture conference back in Chicago in 1994.  We stayed at the Palmer House Hilton, a hotel where my grandfather had stayed when he traveled for his jewelry business earlier in the century.  A different grad school friend and I shared the spacious hotel room, and we began each day with a coffee concoction and a scone--delightful!  The room was so big that it had 2 bathrooms.  I wonder if those kinds of rooms still exist.

Yesterday was a fairly easy travel day.  I got to the airport 2 hours early, because I had luggage to check, but because I was so early, I had no trouble.  The security line wasn't long, but it was VERY slow.

I got an exit row seat on the first leg of my trip, from Ft. Lauderdale to Houston.  On the plane from Houston to San Antonio, we each had our own row.

I saw 10 people wearing masks. Of course, I don't know if I should count the woman with her mask dangling from 1 ear like an odd earring, the guy wearing his mask to cover his chin but not his mouth/nose, or the guy wearing the construction mask, the kind you wear when you're doing a bit of sanding.

I was deeply aware of every cough, sneeze, and sniffle.  But I usually am aware of those things.  I'm not exactly afraid of germs, but I am a bit leery of all body fluids that aren't inside the body.  Coming of age during the discovery of the AIDS virus will do that to a person.

I was also aware of the kindness of people.  The sight of children who weren't traveling together but who put on some sort of puppet show with their stuffed animals and the top of the airport seats as a stage made me happy all day.

I got to San Antonio and got into a cab, like I was some sort of adult on a TV show who does this all the time.  I got to the hotel, which had not lost my reservation (always a pre-travel jitter of mine), and even better, they let me check in hours early.

I spent the afternoon in a combination of scrolling through various sites, doing grading, exploring San Antonio on foot, doing some more grading and scrolling, and then going to the local CVS to buy contact lens solution.  I managed to get here with my contact lens case, but not the solution.  Happily, that's an easy fix.  It would be a much longer week if I had gotten here without my glasses that I use to read the computer when I don't have my lenses in.

Like Portland (Oregon) and San Diego, San Antonio also has a disturbing number of homeless people--people sleeping/passed out on sidewalks, ranting on sidewalks, lurching along almost falling into traffic. I know that South Florida has lots of homeless too, but I think they have better places to hang out than in our center parts of cities. Or maybe they're there too, but I don't know it, because my daily life doesn't take me there.

My grad school friend arrived in the early evening, and we explored the Riverwalk a bit.  But in the end, we came back to the hotel for a dinner of sorts.  All of the other restaurants seemed to busy with the noise of music (both live and piped in) and crowds.

I'm not sure what to expect from the AWP conference.  All afternoon yesterday, I saw writer after writer on my Facebook and Twitter feed decide not to go.  I am assuming that there will be canceled panels and appearances.  I will make the best of it.  Maybe unlike other years, I won't be so overwhelmed by all the options.

Or maybe we'll just have lots of time to explore San Antonio.  As we thought about our dinner options yesterday, it was not lost on me that we had a lot of chains to choose from--honestly, I can eat at a Margaritaville just a mile from my house.  I didn't come across half a continent for that.

If the rain lets up today, maybe we'll find some parts of San Antonio that are more authentic.  Maybe we'll explore the Alamo--we can't get much more authentic than that.

A Brief Note before Heading to San Antonio for AWP

Yesterday was a humdinger of a day; it was also a day where I got a lot done, working steadily while being interrupted to solve a variety of problems and answer lots of questions.  I got files constructed, filing done, minutes written, e-mails sent, lots of office clean up done that the disruptions of past weeks had precluded.

Yesterday was a humdinger of a day because there were rumors of AWP cancellation.  I wrote to my grad school friend early, and we decided that we weren't cancelling.  By yesterday morning, I'd heard of many individuals cancelling.  By yesterday afternoon, rumors were flying about the conference itself being cancelled.

By then it would have been too late for me to cancel my hotel reservation without paying for a night.  I decided that I would fly to San Antonio anyway--might as well see the city, a place I've always wanted to visit, since I'm going to pay for a night at a fancy hotel anyway.  Or should I?  I'm flying Southwest, so I could use the airline ticket later.  Except that I'm not really flying much these days, and Southwest isn't an easy airline to use to fly to see my parents, my other main flight destination.

Happily the conference isn't cancelled, although I'm no longer sure what to expect.  Will panels be cancelled?  That might be disappointing.  Unlike some years, I'm not travelling with my conference agenda already determined--I haven't even looked at the offerings.  Some years there have been authors I really wanted to see, like Colson Whitehead last year.  This year I don't even know who was planning to be there, so I won't be disappointed--maybe.

I have my sketchbook packed, along with my purple poetry legal pad.  I have books to read and walking shoes and extra socks.  I haven't packed wipes or any other ways of disinfecting.  I know that I am lucky, in that I have a healthy immune system, and I'm in good health.

My spouse stays behind to hold down the house and his teaching jobs.  I feel more fretful about that fact than any risk to myself.

Well, it's almost time to head to the airport.  Let me see what life is like in other parts of the U.S.  I'm taking my computer with me, and hoping to continue to blog.

Falling through a Hole in Time

I spent the week-end feeling like I had fallen through a hole in time.  I went to the middle of the Florida peninsula, to the Lake Yale conference center for a statewide retreat for Lutheran women of the ELCA variety.  Once we might have called it a WELCA retreat, but I get the idea that we're in the process of rebranding.

I say we, but I've only been a WELCA member for about 10 minutes, compared to some of the women that I met this week-end.  In fact, during much of my life, I resisted being a WELCA member.  Those women seemed so different from me.

And after this retreat, I still feel that way, to a certain extent.  But to be honest, I often feel that way no matter what group I'm in.  I'm the one reading different books, I'm the one working in a different creative process, I'm the one who has a different family situation.  Maybe that outsider feeling is just going to be a given in my life.  I've always felt on the outside looking in, since I was little.

You might ask about the hole in time comment.  It's been strange to be at a WELCA event, surrounded by people whom I knew in a different time of my life--at a former church, at Synod Assembly.  Or did I know them at all?  So many of them looked like the women I once knew at my grandmother's church.  And then there's the matter of the ones that reminded me of my grandmother.

I also feel like I zoomed back in time because of the conference center itself.  It's such a different kind of conference center than the kind of glossy conference center that so many cities have built to attract groups like the AWP.  It's cinderblock and metal and sand:

The guest lodging reminded me of motor courts of the middle of the 20th century:

It reminded me very much of various gathering spots for churches of my youth.  Many of the bathrooms still had the tile of my youth.  It's the women's room, so we'll use pink tile!

But there was also a lake, a vast expanse of a lake.  It was much more lovely at sunrise than at any other time:

I didn't take my laptop for several reasons.  I wasn't sure there would be wi-fi, and even if there was wi-fi, I decided it would be good to unplug.  And on the morning that I captured the above shot of the sunrise, I was in a fellowship hall with several people tapping on their phones.  I stood up and said, "We're about to miss a beautiful sunrise."  But no one followed me outside--or even looked up.

When I look back on this week-end, what I might remember most is having time to read--one reason why I wanted to leave my laptop at home.  I've really been enjoying Maria Popova's Figuring.  What an amazing exploration of science and creativity and creating an authentic life.  The book focuses most of its time on amazing women throughout history.

It was fascinating being at this retreat surrounded by women, while reading about women who had been trailblazing such a different life than the one that most of us will be able to create.  I may say more on that later, but I may not.  I knew that I would need some less distracted time to make my way through the 500 + page book, and I'm glad that I seized the time this week-end.

It's another way I feel like I fell through a hole in time--the time to read and the material about the past. 

Sketching the Synod Assembly

Last week-end, I tried to follow the Southeastern Synod Assembly from a distance--they were electing a bishop, and I knew two of the candidates.

Our Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly has not been nearly so thrilling.  We are not electing a bishop.  So far, in most of the elections that we're doing, people are running unopposed.  It doesn't make for a riveting election.

We've heard lots of reports, and while they're interesting, I did find my attention wandering away.  I'd already had a long day, in a way--I was up early catching up on grading and then there was the trip to Orlando and the checking in and the locking myself out of the room and the waiting for elevators.

So I pulled out my sketchbook.  I worried a bit that I might not seem respectful of the speakers, but I decided that if I drifted off to sleep, that would seem even less respectful.  Plus, I noticed lots of folks were tap-tap-tapping on their phones, which seems like a sure sign of lost attention to me.

I didn't have my full collection of markers, but I'm pleased with the sketch:

I found myself paying much closer attention, even though to the casual observer, I might have seemed zoned out.  I can look at that picture and remember some of the information about the good work being done by various groups.  For example, I made the marks at the bottom left of the page when the speaker was talking about seminarians helped by various scholarships.

My pastor is the official photographer for the Synod Assembly.  Yesterday I dreamed of a future where in addition to official photographers and note takers and the video record, we might also preserve a more impressionist record.

Leadership Trainings

Another week has zoomed by.  Today I will be away my main campus to go to a leadership event at the beautiful Bailey Hall of Broward College.  I saw an opportunity for a free ticket, and I asked my boss what he thought; in my last performance review, he had noted as an opportunity for growth that I go to management and/or leadership development.  He approved, and so off I will go.

I'm not sure what to expect; the event says it will "breathe new life into your leadership" by way of "a leader development experience designed to equip you with new perspectives, practical tools and key takeaways."   Although some of the names are familiar to me, I don't think of all of them as leadership teachers.  I'm thinking most specifically of Tyler Perry.

It's been an intense few weeks, both in terms of my work life (start of Fall quarter) and in the larger communities of my life.  While I expect that the retreat I'll attend next week will do more to rejuvenate me, I'm also looking forward to today.

If my boss had told me that I needed to do more to get training in pedagogy, I'd know how to do that.  If he had said that I needed to get some updates in my field of study, that, too, I would know where to seek out those opportunities.

But for leadership and management training, I've been a bit stymied.  I've seen a few conferences, but been astounded by their prices.  I've thought about working on an additional degree, which I could do for the price of those conferences.

To be fair, if I had to pay for this ticket, I'd be asking the same questions about the worth of the training.  But I'm an academic in outlook.  I want to know that what I'm learning is backed up by research, not just by the experience of the speaker.  The promotional materials for many of these workshops don't really stress that aspect of what we'll learn--how do we know what we know? 

Today is Columbus Day, the day in 1492, October 12, a lookout on one of Columbus' boats saw land after almost 2 months at sea. I’m always amazed at what those early explorers accomplished. At Charlestowne Landing (near Charleston, SC), I saw a boat that was a replica of the boat that some of the first English settlers used to get here. It was teeny-tiny. I can't imagine sailing up the coast to the next harbor in it, much less across the Atlantic. Maybe it would have been easier, back before everyone knew how big the Atlantic was.

It's interesting to think about leadership on this day when we celebrate that vision of Columbus, the day when some of us will think about who and what Columbus had to trample to accomplish his goals.  What kind of leadership do we need today?

We've had some interesting discussions of leadership in various communities of which I am a part.  How would our worlds be different if we praised kindness and compassion--not traits for which Columbus was known.

On this week-end which will celebrate the canonization of Archbishop Oscar Romero, I'll be thinking of these leadership questions.  What happens when leaders think about the bottom-most rungs of societies?  Does that path always lead to martyrdom?

Sold Out Convention Hotels

Yesterday was the first day that we could make our hotel reservations for the AWP conference in March.  I know that in the past, the hotels get full very quickly, so I wasn't going to wait.  By 8:30 a.m.--on the VERY FIRST DAY that we could make reservations--I couldn't get a reservation for the night before the conference starts, March 7, at the conference hotel.  I made reservations for the 2 nights that were available. 

I thought about making a reservation for March 7 at a different hotel.  I thought about driving up very early in the morning on March 8, but the thought exhausted me, even though I'm an early riser.  It is a 5-6 hour drive to Tampa from my house, after all.

By 11:30 or so, the conference hotel was completely sold out--on the VERY FIRST DAY that we could make reservations.  I made an alternate set of reservations at the overflow hotel that has a skywalk to the convention center where the conference is being held.  That hotel has breakfast made to order as part of the cost of the room, along with drinks and snacks at the end of the day.  That hotel has suites, not just a room.  I'll likely keep that reservation and cancel the conference hotel. 

I decided not to make any further decisions yesterday, as it was all vaguely overwhelming and exhausting.

Don't get me wrong:  I'm thrilled that I'll be able to attend the AWP.  But the fact that the conference hotel sells out before noon on the first day that we can make reservations does give me pause about going to an event in the future that will require much more in the way of travel coordination. 

I do wonder if this event is quickly outgrowing the capacity of most U.S. cities to host it.  Many of us assume that any large city can handle this kind of event, but if we want everyone to have a hotel room near the event, that assumption is simply not true.

But for this year, my travel arrangements are set--and I cannot tell you how excited I am to be going--and driving!--watch out book fair last day sales!  I have an entire car to load up with great deals.

Dreaming of the AWP

Leslie Pietrzyk has a great post with all sorts of valuable information about how to survive the AWP.  It reminded me of a Facebook conversation that happened weeks ago after Jeannine Hall Gailey wrote a great post about book sales; it's the kind of post that has links to other posts that discuss the same topic.  She then posted the link to her post on Facebook, which sparked more conversation.

One of the topics that came up was the AWP convention and how that relates to book sales.  Jeannine said, "Yes, it's more indirect than direct sales, though direct sales definitely happen there. I think you end up seeing people, making connections, old friends ask you for poems at their literary journals, people might tell you about jobs or other opportunities - that kind of thing. It's like, is it worth it, strictly monetarily? Hard to say! I'd love to hear other people's opinions on it..."

And with that invitation, I wrote this reply:

"The conference fee itself is VERY affordable.  It's the hotel and airfare costs that make me decide against it. The workshops and presentations: VERY useful. Making connections: very possible, although my introvert side hated it. I figure that if one must stay in a hotel and eat and fly to the event, the AWP costs over $1000: one can buy a lot of how-to books and inspiring outings closer to home for that chunk of money.

But every year, I do wonder if I've made the right decision not to go. And I wonder how all the grad students that I see there afford it. I would not have been able to go in grad school. Of course, I was determined to be debt-free, and I suspect that grad students are using some of their student loan money to cover it. Or worse, credit cards."

Jeannine responded, "I think if you're trying to sell a book, it's undeniably useful to go; if not, then the benefits are more amorphous."

I replied, "That's a good point too. I've often wondered if one could tie in a huge road trip if the AWP was within driving distance--do readings along the way. Of course, then the issue becomes taking that much time off work, if one has that kind of job. I also know people who tie it all into family vacation time. I like the idea of a trip with multiple purposes--even though the thought of it exhausts me."

I am guessing that by now, most people have made their decisions about whether or not to go to the 2015 AWP conference.  I won't go, although I'd love to see Minneapolis.  Future conferences?  In 2016, it's L.A.--I'm fairly sure I won't be there.  But then the conference returns to the east coast:  2017 in D.C., which, since I have family in the area, is doable.  And 2018 is Tampa--Tampa!  The AWP in a city with warm weather!  In early March!  I can drive there. 

So, it's not too early to start thinking about the 2017 and 2018 AWP.  I don't have a book with a spine to promote at this point, but I want to have one by 2017 or 2018--and that means I need to go into high gear now.

Technology Invades the Conference Landscape

--Our panel presentation at the conference on Sunday went very well.  I was pleased with how our ideas worked together, and yet, we were different, both in content and in technology.  I had no Powerpoint presentation, and I was sandwiched between 2 presenters who did.

--I mention that fact because I am struck by how much Powerpoint and Prezzies have become part of the conference landscape.  Once upon a time we wouldn't have counted on the technology being available and working.  Now, we get grumpy when things go wrong.

--If I ever make the shift to presenting with a slide show of some kind, I vow to do a preview of my slides.  I vow to go to the back of the room to see if people can read the print.

--Most of all, I vow to make more slides with less information per slide.  Most of the presentations that I saw on Sunday had FAR TOO MUCH writing on each slide.  It was unreadable from a distance.  There's no need to put every scrap of information on the slide.  That's the point of a presentation, right?  You'll elaborate, right?  We, your audience, will take notes if need be.

--I'm also amazed by how technology has invaded the audience space.  On Sunday in the large sessions, so many people were pecking away on their laptops, tablets, and smart phones.  I'd like to think they were taking notes, but I could see many a screen, and I can report that they were not.

--No, people were checking their e-mail, checking their papers/Powerpoints which they'd present later, working on research for other projects, researching where to eat lunch.  I kept thinking about the astonishingly high cost of the conference ($265 for early registration--I've never paid that much for a conference).  If it bores you, why come?

--I know, I know, there are many reasons.  Still, you don't need to sit in the audience.  It's a beautiful hotel by a beautiful beach.  Go enjoy.

--It's not a great few days to be enjoying the beach.  We've had astonishing winds:  20-40 mph with huge gusts.  Seas are at 12 feet.

--So maybe that's why people stayed put in the conference room.  Or maybe they think they can multitask.

--Is it better to be part of the audience, even when we can't stay focused?  At least our electronics keep us quiet.

--Except for when they don't.  I was astonished when one woman took a call on her cell phone and went to the back of the room.  We could still hear her.  Luckily, someone wrote that fact on a piece of paper and showed it to her.  Luckily, her obliviousness/rudeness was pierced, and she left the room.

--But honestly, it should be a given of modern tech manners:  if you need to talk on the phone, and you're somewhere where someone else has the floor, you need to leave the room.  No matter how softly you think you're speaking, you're still audible, and we'll all notice.  And many of us will think uncharitable thoughts about you.

--One woman told me that she plays Candy Crush Saga on her phone when she needs something to keep her hands busy.  It's certainly more compact than dragging one's knitting everywhere.

--I know that at some point I will break down and buy a smart phone.  I will wonder how I ever lived without it.  I will find it hard to resist the pull of technology, especially if I'm at a meeting/presentation that's less than compelling.

AWP Advice, Whether You're Going or Staying Away

So, many people will be headed to Boston to the annual AWP convention.  There must be a reason why AWP so often happens in northern cities in February or March, but I can't figure out what that might be.  At one point, I thought it was cost, but I have since read that Boston is one of the more expensive U.S. cities for conference attendees.  That's one reason why I decided not to attend--the cost of hotels, even with the conference discount.  Yikes.

Could we not find some nice Southern cities?  Like, oh, say, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, or Tampa?  Sure, I have a vested interest.  It would be easier for me.

But if we're avoiding Florida, why not New Orleans or Memphis?  Austin seems capable of hosting huge groups.  I'd love another reason to head to the desert Southwest.

Ah, well, I'm not in charge.  But I do have advice for people heading to AWP.  Sandra Beasley also has excellent advice in this post.  And if, like me, you're staying home, Jeannine Hall Gailey has great advice in this post.

Here's my advice:

--Bring energy bars or nuts, snacks with fiber that will kill your hunger and fill you up; look for the kinds with high fiber and high protein. Buy these before you leave and pack them in your luggage.


--You'll likely be around a lot of sources of free water: water pitchers in the back of meeting rooms, coolers, water fountains. You may need an empty bottle or cup, so you might want to pack one.

--Caucuses are a great way to make connections.

--You'll need cash or checks at the book fair; many tables won't take credit cards. In the last hours of the book fair, you'll get many a deal. Of course, if you have to ship the books or pay extra because of airline regulations and the weight of your suitcase, the great deals may be not so great.

--Bring business cards or something of similar weight and shape that has your contact information on it.

As I look at that list, I'm struck by how it's good information all the way around. Always have a snack, always have a water bottle, always look for ways to make connections, and you can't always count on being allowed to use a credit card.

And remember, if you're at home, there's lots you can do to build your career, even if you can't make it to these conferences, like AWP.  Treat yourself to a book, and don't forget that your local public library likely has lots of them for you to check out for free.  Write something new each day.  Send some writing out into the world.  Pitch an idea to an editor.  Apply for a grant.

Once again, good information, for weeks when you can't get to AWP and for weeks when nothing much is going on in the wider world.

Poetry Week Continues! The Palm Beach Poetry Festival

Yesterday, I headed up to Delray Beach for an afternoon at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival.  I often like the craft lectures better than anything else, and so when I saw that Tracy K. Smith was paired with Tony Hoagland for yesterday afternoon's craft lecture, that seemed like a great deal.  Even better:  an interview with Billy Collins that happened right afterwards.  So, I bought tickets last week, and yesterday, I headed out.

Each event cost $15, but it was well worth it.  There's plenty of free parking at Delray Beach around Old School Square, so at least I wouldn't have to pay for parking.

Yesterday, I got there early, because I was afraid of running late; it only takes one wreck on the Interstate to destroy the best-made plans.  Happily, I had no problems.  The Crest Theatre is a lovely place, so I didn't mind having 20 extra minutes. 

I looked at the books, but decided to wait on buying them.  I looked in various rooms that were open:  parlours that functioned as art galleries or libraries.  I looked at one woman and thought, she looks like Tracy K. Smith.  I thought about saying something, but she was reading an iPad, and besides, what would I say?  "I love your work."  I'm sure she hears that a lot.  And what if it was someone else?

Later when Tracy K. Smith took the stage, I realized that the woman in the parlour was indeed Tracy K. Smith.  She gave a beautiful presentation where she talked about her own work and the work of Elizabeth Bishop.  She talked about using poems as a way to cross an uncrossable distance.

Then Tony Hoagland took the stage to talk about the use of imagination vs. the use of information.  He talked about "our American cottage industry:  poems of partially digested therapy."

Hoagland was quite funny in his examples of material from real life that he couldn't have made up in his imagination, like a sign in a forest that informed visitors that every tree in the forest had been cut down to make pilings for the Panama Canal.  He worries that poets, particularly American poets, live too much in their imaginations, that we've lost the sense of scale and proportion that tells us how much of ourselves to leave in--and to leave out.

Then we had a brief break, and Billy Collins took the stage to be interviewed by Ginger Murchison, editor of the Cortland Review.  She asked great questions, and he responded warmly and graciously.  He read several of his poems.

What I liked about each of the presentations is that I got to hear each poet read, but I also got to hear their thoughts on other subjects.  I found it much easier to stay alert and present with those formats than I often do during readings.

In the coming days, I will probably write a post or two to say more about what each poet said.  I wrote down too many treasures to keep them to myself.

It was interesting to return to the Festival; I've been there a few times, and I'm always struck by how many of the participants are either quite young (college or MFA students) or much, much older--the far side of midlife to quite elderly but still ambulatory.

Of course, it makes sense in a way.  Middle-aged folks like myself are usually working.  Would I come if I had to use vacation days to do so?  Probably not, since I wouldn't have many of them.  Would I come if I was balancing several jobs to keep my family together?  It wouldn't be possible.

This year, there seemed to be fewer students, but I could be wrong.  Or it could be the function of a Tuesday afternoon.

Each year, I wonder if I should commit to the Festival fully, sign up for the full 4 days of workshops and intense work with the visiting poets.  Each year, I'm deterred by the cost and the time and the driving.  But I'm always impressed by the poets who come, and I'm impressed by the events that I do attend.  For those of you looking for a great poetry experience, put the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, which happens each January, on your radar screen.

Travels: Academic, Colonial, Air

I have been travelling; it's strange to return home to news of tornadoes in other parts of the country.  But our travel day yesterday was relatively calm.  Even the delays that we experienced on Thursday weren't as upsetting as they could be; I just settled in to read.

On my flight up I read Amy Waldman's The Submission, a great book about September 11, art, and race.  The central question:  can a mostly non-practicing Muslim create a suitable memorial to September 11?  The book answers that question early on:  yes.  Then the book asks a different question:  if a Muslim artist creates a memorial, can the fact that a Muslim created it detract from its purposes?  This book is a great meditation on class, religion, immigration, gender, and skin color.

On the way back I read Jesmyn Ward's Salvage the Bones, another book that contemplates skin color, gender, and class.  It's a heartbreaking book, and I confess to skimming parts, especially the dog fighting parts.  Yikes.  But it's compelling, and it makes me realize how fortunate I've been, how damaging poverty is, how tough to escape.

What did I do in between?  I went to the College English Association conference in Richmond, where I presented a paper.  I wrote about poet children of scientists who contemplate God in their poetry.  The paper went fairly well.  It was held during the second to last session, so we had a very small audience.

Once again, I tried to see the presentation as a speaking engagement, and less as a paper reading.  I have mixed feelings about it.  I liked the conversational style.  I think what I disliked about my paper is that I had no sweeping insight.  My paper concluded that we see a wide diversity of responses to the question of God in the poetry of children of scientists.  But the audience seemed receptive.

Like I said, that audience was small.  We had 3 panelists, the moderator, and 2 other people.  One of them was my mom.  When they moved to Williamsburg, I decided to submit a paper proposal to the CEA since Richmond is close by.  My school has no travel money, so being able to stay with my parents was an important factor in my decision to participate.

My mom decided to make the drive to Richmond with me.  I was pretty sure it would be OK if she slipped in to hear the presentations.  The CEA doesn't seem too rigid about checking everyone's badges.  In fact, since my presentation was so late in the conference, I thought we might be grateful for an extra audience member.  I was right.  It was great to spend time with my mom in this way.

Of course, it was great to see other family members too.  My sister and nephew came down, and we had a great time together.  Before they came, we went to Williamsburg and wandered the colonial streets.  We went to Jamestown, but lacked the energy to fully explore the ruins (good to save some investigations for later).  My dad told us all sorts of colonial details he's picked up from living in the area and reading some key books.  Great fun.  It was a very full 5 days.

I've come away with some great poem ideas.  I've found myself intrigued again by Pocahontas.  Once again, I am astonished that those settlers were able to survive.  I think about how bad life must have been in the Old World to embark on a voyage to the New World.

It is hard for me to believe that it is April already.  I need to shift gears before National Poetry Month gets away from me altogether.  I need to think about Easter, and the fact that Holy Week is upon me.  I need to make sure that all my other projects are on track too.  And then, of course, there's a department to make sure is running smoothly.  But first, to finish this blog post and to go to spin class!

Tuesday Tips and Other Thoughts on Travel

--Lots of you are headed for the AWP convention in Chicago today; unlike yesterday, you're likely to have better travelling weather.  Here are some things I noted at the end of the convention last year, some tips for your travel and planning:
     --Bring energy bars or nuts, snacks with fiber that will kill your hunger and fill you up; look for the  kinds with high fiber and high protein.  Buy these before you leave and pack them in your luggage.
     --You'll likely be around a lot of sources of free water:  water pitchers in the back of meeting rooms, coolers, water fountains.  You may need an empty bottle or cup, so  you might want to pack one.
     --Caucuses are a great way to make connections.
     --You'll need cash or check at the book fair; many tables won't take cash.  In the last hours of the book fair, you'll get many a deal.  Of course, if you have to ship the books or pay extra because of airline regulations and the weight of your suitcase, the great deals may be not so great.
     --Bring business cards or something of similar weight and shape that has your contact information on it.

As I look at that list, I'm struck by how it's good information all the way around.  Always have a snack, always have a water bottle, always look for ways to make connections, and you can't always count on being allowed to use a credit card.

I will not be going to the AWP convention.  I waited too long and the convention hotel filled up.  And there's the matter of money.  And my fear of Chicago winters and Chicago airports.  But I do plan to go to Boston next year.  I haven't been to Boston, and so I'd love a tax-deductible way to go.  Here's hoping that it all works out.

I do have a fairly full travel schedule for spring, even without AWP.  In fact, we made a quick trip to the North Carolina mountains just this past week-end.  The daffodils and cherry trees are in full bloom months before schedule because it's been such a warm winter.  Very strange.

Yes, I am aware that the mountains are 12 driving hours away, and not exactly the right distance for a week-end trip.  I like to think it keeps us young, like our gang of friends in college who would show up at Saturday breakfast or Friday dinner and say, "Hey, it's only 14 hours to Cincinatti, and we've never been.  Let's go on a quest for chili!"  And off they'd go, in a car you wouldn't trust to get you to the county line.

I didn't go.  I was a sensible girl, with papers to write and her eye on grad school.

One of our spring trips will take us close to Andersonville, and we will stop.  What does it say about me that I feel this pressing need to visit the site of one of the worst POW camps of the Civil War?  The National Historic Site now also has a museum about all POWs in U.S. history. 

I spent part of the 1970's with a POW bracelet on my wrist.  What was a POW bracelet?  It was a silver metal cuff with information about a single POW engraved on it.  The idea was that we'd wear them until our prisoners were released.  Did lots of people have this experience or was it just because of being part of a military community?

So, I come by my obsession with POWs honestly, perhaps.

If you're off to the AWP Convention, I hope you'll take good notes for the rest of us.  I'm looking through the notes I took last year, and once again, I'm amazed at the quantity of great information at this conference.  I'm particularly interested in whether or not the fear of the impending student loan crisis/bubble pop is worrying anyone else as much as it worries me.  I've said it before but it bears repeating:  in terms of my career, I feel like I'm a Detroit autoworker and it's 1978--or that I'm a journalist for a mid-size newspaper, and it's 2001.  In other words, I can feel my industry shifting right out from under me.  I suspect I'm not alone.  People used to accuse me of paranoia or apocalyptic fantasies, and now they ask me how much longer I think our jobs in higher ed will last.

My advice?  Don't take on new debt if you can avoid it.  That's hardly a back-up plan, I know.  I'm still working on that.

Safe travels, if you're travelling this week.  I wish for solid creation time and rest for those of us who are staying put!

AWP: Wrap Up

I've returned from the AWP--what a great conference! In the coming weeks, I might write the occasional blog post that talks about some of the sessions I attended in more depth, but for now, let me record some impressions and memories.

People I Met or Didn't Meet:

I've never attended a conference of this size--almost 7000 participants. HUGE. I foolishly thought that I might run into people, and so I didn't make as many pre-arranged meet-ups as I hope to next year. I wanted to have time in the schedule for serendipitous connections, but I didn't realize that the vast size meant that I was unlikely to just randomly bump into people I knew.

At least that's what I told myself as I watched other attendees fling themselves into each other's arms. At times, it was a bit too much like high school, where everyone else seemed to know each other, and everyone seemed to be having a fabulous time together, while I was having a fabulous time mostly by myself.

I did have a lovely dinner with Lynn Domina, editor of Poets on the Psalms, one of the first books I reviewed on my then-newly-created blog (go here to read that review). When I wrote that review, she and I became Facebook friends, and she asked if I was going to AWP. I couldn't that year, but when I knew I was going this year, I let her know, and finally, we met in person. We ate at an Indian restaurant and talked about our writing and our academic lives. What a treat!

Sandy Longhorn's travel woes meant that our plans for Thursday dinner were not to be--insert heavy sigh of sadness here. Hopefully, we'll meet in person next year. I'm already looking forward to it!

I did see Leslie Pietrzyk in the book fair on Saturday, the only serendipitous meeting I had. Her sister was staffing the Carolina Wren Press table, and I peered at her nametag, thinking, surely she's related to Leslie. So, I asked, and she said yes, and then she said, "There she is now." And happily, Leslie remembered me (we met years ago when my sister and Leslie worked together, and we've seen each other occasionally through the years), and we chatted.

While we were chatting, a man walked by, and then he whipped around and peered at my nametag. Then he whirled back around and marched off. Happily, Leslie and I were able to laugh about it. I said, "Nope, I'm no one famous. Keep walking." Still, I'd never quite had that experience before. It made me wonder who that man was hoping to see when he whirled around. Or do I just look lovely from the back and hideous from the front?

No, it doesn't do to think too deeply about these things. These kind of overpacked conventions bring out my inner 16 year old in the most unattractive ways, the ways that make me say, "Wait, I thought I got to graduate from high school at some point! Why am I still stuck in this high school mental place?" If I'm not careful, I become convinced that everyone is cooler than me, more popular than me, having a better social life than I am. And the older I get, the more convinced I am that no one is leading a charmed life.

One of my favorite memories happened Thursday night. I had decided that I wanted to go to the White Pine reading at the Busboys and Poets location near Chinatown. I was taking the Metro because I was staying with my parents in the suburbs. I figured out how to get there, and then I was big and brave and did it. While there, I saw the authors of three of my favorite 2010 books: January Gill O'Neil, Susan Rich, and Kelli Russell Agodon--and Susan and Kelli were also reading. I had good food, a lovely glass of wine, a bracing cup of coffee, and wonderful poetry, all in a great location. I'll post some pictures tomorrow. And then, I successfully navigated the Metro home. When I walked through Chinatown on the way back, I saw two people in Chinese New Year's Costumes, making their creatures move and dance--hard to explain, and impossible to capture on film. But it was certainly something I don't see in South Florida.

Poets I saw read:

Stephen Dunn, Natasha Trethewey, Rita Dove, Gary Jackson, Yusef Komunyakaa, Susan Rich, Kelli Russell Agodon, Elisabeth Frost, Holly Iglesias, Shin Yu Pai, Carolyn Forche, and Linda Pastan.

Overarching Themes:

I went to lots of panels on the impact of the Internet and online communities on our writing. Some of them made me brim with hope, and many of them made me wish that I had studied computer coding in addition to English. I was intrigued by all the commenters who declared that they would never write for free--these were usually fiction writers who seemed convinced that people are making money off our writing, and that those of us who write for less than top dollar are fools. Plenty of people countered with the idea of writing that leads to opportunities we'd have never had if we had insisted on getting top dollar for that writing. And there was lots of talk about building our online platforms. I don't tweet, but I'm already doing some of the things that panelists talked about, like having a website and a blog and commenting on the blogs of others and being involved in a literary life.

Biggest Surprises:

--So many very young people, undergrads and people who weren't done with their MFAs. When I was in my 20's and in grad school, a conference like this one would have been furthest from my mind. Of course, it was a very different time, and we were all desperately poor.

--I didn't expect the session on making a living as a writer without a full-time academic gig to be so funny; Steve Almond is a riot, and the other panelists were just as determined to make the presentation lively. The panelists were refreshingly honest about their economic lives.

--I went to a caucus for people who teach writing in art schools. I almost didn't go, but I'm glad I did. I met some really wonderful people with whom I hope to stay in touch. It was such a relief to talk to people who had some of the same concerns as I do, even though we're teaching at very different places.

--At a variety of panels, I heard from panelists and commenters about what's being expected of them: heavier teaching loads, larger classes (including one woman who will be expected to teach a writing workshop of 60 students--yikes). I tend to believe that people who teach in Creative Writing departments have a much better work life than I do. Some of them certainly do (and they are older than me, usually, and with much more impressive publications). But many of them are facing stresses and uncertainties that I wouldn't like to be facing.

Best Quotes:

--Someone asked Carolyn Forche how she does everything, how she balances her poetry writing and her teaching and her social justice work. Carolyn Forche gave us a wise, arch look and said, "There's no such thing as balance!" What a relief to hear someone say that out loud!

--Stephen Dunn was asked about prose poetry and formal poetry. He said, "I suspect if you took great prose and broke it into lines, people would be only too happy to call it poetry."

--One of the panelists in the Thursday session that had first time authors discussing the nitty gritty of publishing noted, "I'm not going to be Philip Roth. I've only got a few shots at this." He encouraged those of us who had opportunities to read, but opportunities that we'd have to pay for, to do it if we possibly could. The panelist said, "If you have a chance to go promote your book, you should probably do it. Even if you have to spend a hundred bucks, do it. You'd spend 5 bucks on a latte." And another panelist reminded us that we should be saving money for promoting our books so that we don't have to miss out on these kind of opportunities.

--Lots of good quotes from the Transmedia panel on Friday afternoon. I think it was Kevin Smokler who gave us his cheese cube theory. He said that people pay for coffee because they know what coffee tastes like. He mentioned grocery stores that give you cheese cubes so that you know you'll like the cheese, so that you'll be willing to pay $15.99 for the cheese. He suggested writers do the same. Give away a taste of your work that will hopefully encourage people to pay for the whole thing.

--Smokler also said that writers deserve to be compensated, but that doesn't mean they should be compensated at a middle class pay scale. He talked about dancers who crowded into rat-infested warehouses in the Bronx where it rained on them at night, but they were willing to go through that for their art. Why do we feel like we should be making a living from our writing right from our earliest work?

--Annie Finch talked about administration work as being the way that she builds community and creates ways for the community to listen to each other on a soul level.

Boots and Hats:

I expected everybody to be wearing cool boots, and they were (note to self: buy some boots at the end of season sales; my boots are about at the end of their lives).

I didn't expect so many people to be wearing hats. On Thursday, I saw a woman wearing a Russian style fur hat with a big diamond broach--all day and inside. On Saturday, I saw a woman wearing one of those Jackie Kennedy style hats: a small circle with netting. I saw a variety of scarves and shawls wound around heads. I saw a variety of jaunty chapeaux worn on the heads of students too young to have experienced their 80's clothing the first go-round. Lots of people wore hats with visors pulled low over their eyes.

Alas, I will not be investing in hats. I feel daring when I wear a scarf draped around my neck. I am not fashion-forward enough for hats.

Book Fair:

The most overwhelming part of the AWP for me was the Book Fair. I never did grasp the layout, and the map didn't help. By Saturday, however, I was able to wander around and actually talk to some people. I was able to ask whether or not to submit a manuscript that hadn't won previous contests (yes, do).

And yes, I got lots of deals on Saturday (more on that in a later post). And yes, my suitcase was over the pound limit, but happily, the Jet Blue check in person didn't notice or didn't feel like making an example out of me.

To Sum Up:

None of the panels disappointed me, except that I often wished we had had more time--how often do you sit through 75 minutes and wish for more. I learned a lot and came away inspired. I'm sure that other people were doing the networking gig better than I did--it's not a skill of mine, but I'd like to do better at making connections during the next 45 years than I've done in my first 45. I'd like to get over my inner 16 year old self who claims her aloneness as a badge of honor and uniqueness. And happily, this conference has made me feel that I might be able to do that, to finally graduate from the worst aspects of high school dynamics.